Perhaps you’re tired of hearing the gospel. Or perhaps you’ve never really heard it–you’ve never let it sink into your heart and soul, you’ve never responded to it. I was once like that. From earliest days of childhood I knew the message of salvation, but treated it carelessly. Days went by quickly. Soon I was on my own, away from the influence of Christianity, trying the pleasures of the world which are so plentiful, so glittering and bright. Rarely did I open a Bible or attend a gospel meeting after age 17. Instead, I was found “out with the crowd,” convincing myself that I was having fun. I lived in the city, attended university, had a part-time job, had lots of friends, and never lacked money or material things. I had my own apartment and my own car. As a young person embarking on life, what more could I want? Wasn’t this “life”?
I soon found out that I always wanted “more.” The pleasures of sin are only for a season. Those “seasons” passed so quickly. Nothing that I tried satisfied for long. Exhausting the novelty and fun of a thing, I soon would be looking for something else, something newer, something more exciting. Nothing was sacred, I valued nothing highly except my own selfishness and the thrill of the moment. I tried to forget God and live as others did. Still, there was truth in my heart that could not be drowned with the “good times of life.”
There were the times when, in the middle of a party, laughing with hilarity and surrounded by friends, suddenly the “uselessness of it all” would hit me. With a feeling that verged on sickness and despair, I would glance around, and have to admit to myself that, yes, it was all so empty. But inevitably I would go back to my desperate attempt to fill the void. The moment of seriousness would be lost by experimenting with all that the world so hurriedly placed before my eager, naive eyes. By age 22, I had “tried it all”–numbing my conscience against that which was “right” and “good.” If it had not been for the intervention of a loving, merciful God, He only knows what calamities may have befallen me on earth, and what judgment I would have felt in the depths of hell, willfully lost forever.
The truths I had been taught from the Bible were often smothered, but they never left the depths of my being. Often, I would hear a still, small voice troubling my soul, whispering to me that I wasn’t really happy, wasn’t truly satisfied. I knew what I lacked and I knew I would never find it in pleasure, education, popularity, success–or anything else under the sun. My need was spiritual. I was in need of “the peace of God which passeth all understanding” (Phil. 4:7). I needed a relationship with God.
In the spring of 1987, two preachers came to the city in which I was living, and began a series of gospel meetings. One day, the preachers asked if they could visit me in order to discuss salvation and eternal things. I refused their request. Since I had so often quenched those earnest, quiet whispers that God had put into my heart, and had willfully neglected the matter of salvation for many years, I was sure that I had missed all chances of ever being saved. Ecclesiastes 12:1 states: “Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not…” I realized I was accountable to God for every privilege I had shunned. The offer of salvation had been near time and again, but I had simply shrugged off God’s dealings as if they were of no value. Now, I realized I didn’t deserve anything from God.
There would be no hope for me, I reasoned. I forgot that God’s grace is amazing.
By the end of four weeks, I had attended only a few gospel meetings. My intention was to go to the meetings enough to please those who asked me to go, but not enough so as become troubled about being saved. One Friday evening, I responded to an invitation to the meeting with the shocking response: “There’s no point in going because I’ve missed salvation and there’s no hope for me.” It seemed suddenly, that by expressing aloud these feelings, the solemnity of “no hope” crushed in on my soul. I spent a very miserable weekend trying to drown my sorrow in a “good time.” But now, more than ever, I was left unsatisfied and afraid.
It was then that I decided that I would find out, once and for all, if there was any hope for me.
On Monday, I spent much time reading my Bible. The words of Jeremiah 29:13-14 spoke to me: “Ye shall seek Me, and find Me, when ye shall search for Me with all your heart. And I will be found by you, saith the Lord.” Could it be possible that this verse included me? I purposed to search for the Lord with all my heart. Then, if God did not save me, I would know that all hope had gone forever.
I began reading my Bible with renewed earnest, asking the Lord to show me “what I must do to be saved” (Acts 16:31). John 3:15 states: “That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.” Did I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ? Of course, I did. I had been brought up to believe the Bible, and the Bible is full of the Lord Jesus Christ. Yet, if I died that moment, I knew I would eternally perish! Frustrated, anxious, and discouraged, I gave up when it was time to go to work. I spent a few hours at work, but decided to leave early; I wasn’t able to accomplish anything. Before leaving I sat down and thought about my situation: I had sought the Lord, but I had not found Him. That must mean that God was no longer interested in me, that He was not going to save me. In that instant I decided that it would be much better to forget about these things–forever. I left to catch a bus home with a new feeling of carelessness and freedom.
I am so thankful that God did not let me go that easily. He spoke to me yet again. His amazing grace could not be conquered by trifling whims of feelings, by the ploys of the devil, or by hell itself. I boarded a metro transit bus. It was empty. I sat up front to talk to the driver in order to occupy my mind. As I pursued him in conversation, he seemed less and less willing to talk–until the subject of church somehow came up. The man’s face immediately lit up. He began to speak freely of his interest, how he enjoyed singing the hymns, how he was a Christian, and how that it was the best part of his life. I began to feel a little uncomfortable, but I thought I could get rid of that feeling by asking him to sing something for me.
With a little prompting he finally began:
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me;
I once was lost, but now I’m found,
Was blind, but now I see.”
With a beautiful, melodious voice, he sang all four verses. When he finished, I had tears in my eyes; I had so enjoyed the beauty of his voice, and of his spirit. He noticed the tears and commented, “You must be a born-again Christian.” With that sinking feeling of resignation, I told him that I was not. He turned to me, and said, so earnestly: “It’s the best thing in the world, you know! It’s real!” I swallowed hard.
“I know it’s real,” I admitted quietly.
As I was getting off the bus, the driver looked at me again with sad concern and encouraged me to “consider” these important matters.
This was the last straw: this concern, coming from a total stranger, was just like an arrow from God Himself, piercing me, telling me that I could not escape His convictions. God had spoken again, even after I decided I didn’t want to hear. I stood alone on the sidewalk and watched the bus pull away. In my soul I heard the words, “You can never, never get away from God.” I felt alone, empty, hopeless. Would there be hope yet?
The next day, I searched my Bible again, still struggling and anxiously pondering the great dilemma of my soul’s eternal destiny. I finally decided to call the preachers to see if they would be able to tell me if there was any hope for me. They arrived within a half hour, and each patiently explained God’s plan of salvation.
In frustration, I finally said to them, “I don’t want you to tell me how to be saved–I need you to tell me whether or not I still can be saved.” The question of “hope” was plaguing me again. I recounted the conversation I had with the bus driver the previous evening. “I know that God is speaking to me,” I told the preachers, “but I have put off facing this for so long. Is He giving me another chance? Does He really want to save me?”
The preachers were quiet for several minutes, pondering carefully the question I had put to them. Then one of them said thoughtfully, “If God is speaking to you, then He is still offering mercy, and if He is still offering mercy, then it can be received.” Romans 3:11 says that “there is none that seeketh after God.” Any thoughts we have about God are put into our minds by the Holy Spirit. I grasped at what the preachers were saying. God was still speaking to me! That meant that He did want to save me! How I longed to be saved! I could no longer face life without God’s salvation.
On Sunday morning, four days after my encounter with the bus driver, I was still searching for deliverance from the inner turmoil of my soul. I had to go to work that Sunday morning. As we were short-staffed, the busy day left me no time to think about my soul. I finished work, jumped into my father’s truck, planning to leave the city for my parent’s home, a drive of two hours. I put the key into the ignition–and stopped short: I hadn’t thought about my soul all day. Terror ran through me with a shiver. I heard within myself, “God has stopped speaking to you. Now you’ve missed it forever!” Filled with panic, I simply sat in the truck, paralyzed with fear. Could it be possible that I had trifled away the very last day of opportunity, finally and forever? I knew I had to take my father’s truck home that night–he needed it for the morning. Yet I was afraid to drive on the highway, lest I meet with an accident and plunge out into the depths of a lost eternity. Unprepared to meet God, I would be lost in hell, forever resigned to “no hope.”
I drove to my apartment and shut myself in my room alone, to get this matter settled before God. It would be now or never. The thought frightened me. I read and re-read all the verses that I was so familiar with from childhood. But how could I begin to believe something that I had believed all my life?
About an hour later, my unsaved roommate checked in to see what was wrong with me. I told her that I needed to be saved, and that I needed it now. She retorted, “You’re wasting your time struggling so much. Why don’t you just give up?”
“But you don’t understand!” I cried, “If I don’t get saved now, I’ll never be saved!” She left the room. I continued reading for another fifteen minutes or so. Then, in despair, I closed my Bible. “I guess I’ll just have to give up. There’s no salvation for me.”
I sat on my bed and looked out the window of my 13th floor apartment. I could see the shimmering lights of the city, as flickering specks in the darkness. In my mind I saw the flames of hell, the everlasting burnings. My thoughts were racing:
Hell is real. Hell is real, and you are going there. How is it possible? You were brought up in a Christian home. Your parents prayed for you before you were born. You were taken to gospel meetings all your life. Yet you are going to end up in a real hell. But, Sandra, you know that that’s what you deserve.
God is just and right to send you there.
For the first time in my life the dread reality of my future was impressed upon me in absolute gravity.
I don’t think I ever really believed that my sins were taking me to hell before this moment.
Then this next precious thought came swiftly to me: “But, Sandra, you don’t have to go to hell. That’s why Christ died. You can just take God at His word.”
In that moment, I was saved.
My struggling ceased. I rested on God’s eternal Word. I had already accepted, from His Word, that my sins had separated me from God. With the same Word He showed me that it was not necessary for me to suffer for my sins, for “Christ died for the ungodly” (Rom. 5:6) and that meant me! His death meant life for me. His sacrifice for sin pardoned my guilt and condemnation. Cleansed from my sin with His own life’s blood, I rested. This is all I need. I stand, pardoned and forgiven, before God.
I picked up my Bible again. The first verse I read was John 3:15: Whosoever believeth on the Son HATH eternal life. Now I could understand it all: “whosoever” meant me and I was the possessor of eternal life. I was amazed at the simplicity of salvation. I had been making it so difficult, when all along, God was trying to tell me that everything had been provided for, that Christ had settled my debt long ago at Calvary. I got down on my knees and thanked God for sending His Son to die on the cross for me. That first prayer was very short, very simple, very child-like, but very sincere. It must have thrilled the heart of God to hear thanksgiving from lips that had blasphemed His name.
Late at night, on May 3, 1987, when I burst into my parents’ room with the exclamation, “I got saved,” there were tears of joy.
For twenty-two years they had waited to hear these words.
Through her tears, Mom asked, “Are you sure?”
She couldn’t have asked a more important question: eternity is forever. My father told me the next day, “I cried all night.” Tears of joy flowed freely because a sinner had laid down her arms of rebellion against a high and mighty God, and in simplicity and sincerity, trusted the One who loved her and gave Himself for her. There was joy in my heart, joy in the hearts of those who knew me, loved me, and had prayed for me. A wandering sinner had come home. Likewise there was joy in heaven over one sinner who had repented (Lk. 15:7).
I think back, with regret, to days spent on self, and sin, and foolishness, weaving a web of sin and wickedness, wasting precious moments of life that come as a gift from God. I feel sorry that there are many who conclude, as I once did, that living the Christian life is dull, and will put a damper on their “fun.” I have never regretted accepting God’s salvation for a single moment. The deep, genuine, unparalleled happiness that I now enjoy does not compare in the slightest to the trifling, fleeting, bubble-like “pleasure” I thought I was enjoying before I was saved. I have “peace with God” and this is what the soul is made for. Each moment, I rest calmly and assured, knowing that whatever lies ahead, all is well with my soul –for time and eternity.
Life still has its problems, but life for a Christian is enveloped with the constant care of a loving Father who delights to bless His children. His amazing grace reached and saved this guilty, wandering, defiant sinner.
His amazing grace is available, today, to you. Won’t you accept Him as your Saviour and enjoy pardon and peace from God? Your soul craves it. Why not yield to His amazing grace?
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
(John Newton)